


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #29

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [32]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday, Drabble, Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked you: Crema prompt - Could we see a continuation of the fill you posted of drunk Blaine calling Kurt on his birthday? You know…just Blaine continuing that adorableness once he arrives at Kurt’s.</p><p>Anonymous asked you: crema prompt for a follow up of prompt #27 from Blaine’s POV?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #29

Blaine doesn’t quite remember getting to Kurt’s apartment, but somehow he finds himself on Kurt’s stoop and banging on his door, likely to the immense annoyance of his neighbors.  But he’s there, and he needs Kurt to let him in.

He remembers Nick pushing him into a cab and handing the driver probably far, far more cash than necessary.  And he’s pretty sure he remembers Nick ruffling his hair obnoxiously and telling him to  _go get some birthday lovin’ from your boy_.  He remembers pressing his flushed cheek to the chilled glass of the window and how the condensation slid across his jaw and down his neck.  He remembers closing his eyes, just for a moment, and then suddenly being woken by the cab driver’s gruff voice.

And Blaine definitely remembers the fondly amused look in Kurt’s sleepy eyes when Kurt opens the door at his too loud, too long knocking.

“Hey, birthday boy.” Kurt is wearing loose grey pajama pants that sit low on his hips and a long-sleeved black shirt that clings to the defined planes of his chest and accentuates how broad his shoulders are.  Blaine blinks a few times. 

“I think I’m drunk, Kurt.” Blaine sways a little unsteadily on his feet.  His brain feels like Jell-O, but it’s not just the alcohol, although that’s certainly a hell of a lot of it.  But it’s also the lazy warmth in Kurt’s eyes – bluer tonight than usual.  It’s the mess of his hair – clearly brushed back from his forehead with a casual rake of fingers.  It’s the way there’s a line on Kurt’s cheek from his pillow and how his feet are bare and his toes are oddly long and Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever spent any time at all thinking about Kurt’s toes before.

“Yes,” Kurt says and he’s grinning, soft and sweet.  “Yes, I think you are.”  Kurt reaches out, captures Blaine’s hand in his own, and tugs him into the apartment.  The door shuts behind them with a gentle  _snick_  and Blaine leans heavily into Kurt.  He gets a mouthful of fabric instead of the warm skin of Kurt’s neck like he’s pretty sure he was aiming for.

“I woke you up, Kurt.” Blaine mumbles from where his mouth is pressed awkwardly against Kurt’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  It’s your birthday.”  Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine’s temple and Blaine leans further into his body.  Kurt smells so good – like fresh laundry and warm skin and Blaine just wants to wrap his arms around Kurt and never let go.

“Come on,” Kurt says, leading him through the tiny apartment. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Blaine brushes his teeth with the spare toothbrush Kurt bought for him two weeks ago and he’d think about what that means for them if he could think about anything at all.  But he knows that it means  _something_.  He knows that it could mean the beginning of everything.  Blaine catches sight of himself in the mirror – hair a complete disaster, cheeks flushed, and pupils dilated – and he almost doesn’t recognize himself.  But he’s kind of OK with it.  He looks like a boy who went out for his birthday with some friends and had a great time.  He looks like a boy who had  _fun_  for once, without thoughts or concerns of anything else.  Blaine just wishes his limbs didn’t feel so heavy or uncoordinated, or that he could keep his eyes open.

“Here.”

Blaine turns, closing his eyes briefly against the wooshing and swooshing that his brain does, and opens them again to find Kurt leaning against the doorframe.  He’s got a little bundle of clothes in his hands and he’s gazing at Blaine with such astounding affection that Blaine almost doesn’t remember how to breathe.

“I’ve got some pjs for you.”

“Kurt, I-” Blaine looks down at his feet and frowns.  The ground seems so far away, and yet somehow so close, and Blaine doesn’t think he can get his shoes off, let alone his pants, without falling over.

“Come on, you,” Kurt says, and his voice is sweet and fond and Blaine kind of wishes he could pet Kurt’s voice.  “I’ll help.”

Blaine lets Kurt draw him out of the bathroom and into the cool, dark bedroom.  He’s only been in here a few times and he wishes he could focus enough to look around, but the pictures on the wall are fuzzy and his stomach lurches abruptly when he tries to peer into Kurt’s closet.  And he is not going to vomit on Kurt’s rug.  Instead, Blaine gazes at Kurt’s face – his perfect, gorgeous, intent face – as Kurt slowly undresses him.

Kurt’s hands are warm and smooth on his body – reverent – and Blaine can’t help the shivers that crawl up his spine as Kurt pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it to the side.  Kurt’s fingers linger just a moment on his sensitive ribs and Blaine wants to tell him he can linger a little longer.  There’s so little they’ve done together and so much he knows there’s left to do.  But there’s been times when they’re on the couch together, pressed too close, and Kurt’s hands are hot and eager and so are his lips, and Blaine just wants.  He’s felt the hard, unmistakeable shape of Kurt’s cock against thigh or hip and knows what to do, but not  _how_.  It’s insane to know, to feel, how much Kurt wants him too.

Blaine bites his lip and clenches his fists at his sides as Kurt’s long, dexterous fingers unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.  The click-slide of his zipper is so loud in the quiet of Kurt’s dark bedroom; the room is lit only by the filter of the bright city through the window and the weak bathroom light.  Kurt’s knuckles brush his underwear as he works Blaine’s jeans down over his hips and the generous curve of his ass and Blaine just wants to reach out and fit his hands into the tempting dip of Kurt’s waist.

“Sit down, dear.”

Blaine collapses heavily on the bed (Kurt’s  _bed_ , it’s his birthday and he’s going to sleep in Kurt’s  _bed_ ) and watches as Kurt tugs his shoes off and gets his pants the rest of the way down.  Blaine is left in his underwear and Kurt is between his thighs and, if he wanted, Blaine could pull Kurt that last little bit closer.  He could pull Kurt flush against his body and tip them back on the bed and-

“Blaine?”

He looks up from where he’s been staring at the soft bulk of  _Kurt_  behind his thin pajama pants.  Kurt is gazing down at him, lips parted and wet where he’s apparently been licking them. 

“Kurt, you’re-” Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and places it on his chest, over his heart.  He watches Kurt’s eyes – how they widen and darken – and there’s so much he doesn’t know how to say.

“I know,” Kurt whispers and he pushes a little harder against Blaine’s chest and Blaine swears his heart pounds an answer.  “You too.”  Kurt smiles softly and bends low to brush his lips across Blaine’s forehead.  Blaine shivers again.

Kurt gets him into the borrowed pajamas and under the covers faster than Blaine thought possible, or maybe his sense of time is severely fucked up.  It doesn’t matter.  Nothing matters but Kurt’s strong arms holding him tight to his chest and Kurt’s breath on the back of his neck and the scent of him all around.  Blaine’s eyes close even before Kurt has them fully settled under the soft sheets and thick duvet.

“Kurt?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m glad I get to end my birthday with you.”


End file.
